


Just The Way You Are

by Semperfidani



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: A combo gift fic for two amazing people, Ben is a bit of an asshole, Ben teases her about it, Brooklyn, F/M, Family of Choice, Inappropriate shiva practices, Jerk father, Jewish Ben Solo, Jewish Reylo, Just The Way You Are inspired, Mourning the father she never new, New York City, No Smut, Phillip Altman vibes, Reconciliation with the past, Rey is not Jewish but she's learning., She smells because she's mourning, Shiva - Freeform, The author really likes Billy Joel, They like each other just the way they are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 04:06:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19863217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semperfidani/pseuds/Semperfidani
Summary: Rey mourns the death of the father she never knew. Ben joins her.





	Just The Way You Are

**Author's Note:**

> I have been exploring the Jewish side of my family heritage. My great-grandfather and his family were forced to convert in Russian-occupied territory (at the time). His brother was killed in a concentration camp. I feel like a key piece of my identity was lost in persecution. They faced much discrimination when they arrived here. 
> 
> Most of my information came from online, so if there are inaccuracies in practice, that's on me. I know shiva is a very mournful and sensitive time. This fic is not intended with any disrespect to the practice or faith. For the sake of this story, I've shortened the period to 3 days (which in some article I read suggested that sitting shiva can range from 3 to 7 days. Seven is the norm, but some families adapt to shorter days and it seems to be acceptable from what I have read of the practice). It's low-key inspired by the movie This Is Where I Leave You and the song Just The Way You Are by Billy Joel.

_I don't want clever conversation._ _I never want to work that hard._

 _I just want someone that I can talk to._ _I want you just the way you are._

[Billy Joel - Just the Way You Are.](https://youtu.be/HaA3YZ6QdJU)

* * *

Rey watched as the red glowing embers of the cigarillo flickered downwards like urban fireflies, falling in a zigzag motion until it extinguished itself on the concrete floor of inherited Brooklyn Heights brownstone house rooftop. She inhaled the scent of the wine-scented smoke from the port cigar, the sweetness tickling her nostrils as if walking through a vineyard. Billy Joel serenaded them from her used CD player boombox that was plugged into the outlet along the brick wall. 

Her back ached to get up from the overturned teal milk crate — it’s not particularly comfortable or enjoyable to sit on, but at least it has a cushion made from a re-purposed used pillow. Her knees ached in a particular way from the low-sitting crate. She picked at the torn black ribbon that is fastened to her wrist cuff, pulling on the loose thread and watching it as it unraveled with a satisfying ripping sound. It seemed insincere to pin in to heart given the circumstances.  
  
It’s been three days since the burial of the father she never knew but was expected to mourn.

* * *

It was a month ago since she received a letter from his solicitor while working the day shift at Starbucks while crafting a grande Americano with three pumps of vanilla syrup and coconut milk. 

It was three weeks ago since she met her father — the very wealthy Ben Kenobi — for the first time, his frail body dressed in his finest woolen clothing while laying on the finest cotton sheets at the Organa-Solo residence, the fancy accommodations transformed into a makeshift palliative care room for their “good _chaver_ and _mensch._ ” 

It was two weeks and six days ago since she learned about the circumstances of her birth — an unforeseen and unwanted child created from a tryst between her _married_ father, a Jewish Julliard professor, and Kerri, an Episcopal British _shiksa_ and theatrical student. The same woman who subsequently perished in a cocaine-fueled binge in a squat tenement in lower Manhattan, having sold her daughter for a hit. His ex-wife, Satine, left him after one too many affairs, taking a sizable chunk of his fortune and his house in the Hampton's with her.

It was two weeks and five days ago in which she endured her father’s back-handed comments about her state of dress and non-religious lifestyle, as if completely lacking any self-awareness of his contribution to said state of being. 

It was a week and a half ago ago since she sat in the drawing room with Leia Organa-Solo, going over the terms of the will and learned about what would be expected about the funeral in Jewish custom — all helpful advice for the resident nobody with no faith background. “We’ll fix that,” Leia insisted, offering resources for Rey to study while she placed a call to her brother Luke, a local Rabbi from the Reform Jewish synagogue.

It was a week ago when Han Solo helped her move into her father’s brownstone. Rey had so few belongings that they were able to do the move in one trip. He stocked the fridge up with some food while she unpacked. Later, they shared a beer on the rooftop patio while taking in the New York skyline across the East River. Han shared stories about how proud he was of his son — Ben — who worked in one of the fancy skyscrapers as a stockbroker. “He’s a good kid, despite what that monster has moulded him into. He’s a born leader, like his mother, not a _schmuck_ like his old man. He just chose the wrong path, chasing stocks instead of doing something noble like becoming a lawyer like us.”

It was two days ago when they buried her father in a traditional Jewish funeral service. _“Baruch atah Adonai, Dayan Ha-Emet,”_ Rabbi Luke said during Keriah. _Blessed are you, God, Truthful Judge._ In a way, the black ribbon she wore was more torn up compared to how Rey felt about the situation. 

It was a day ago, during the second day of _shiva_ , a practice of mourning that Leia insisted Rey partake in, that Ben waltzed into the Organa-Solo house unannounced. Mourners had filed by, patting her sympathetically on the hand; they were all faceless strangers to Rey, and she wasn’t sure how to respond to people who knew her father better than herself. The expectation of grief felt overwhelming.

Ben made his appearance as loudly and crassly as possible. Wearing dark denim jeans, a silk black button-up shirt, and a dark red tie, he boldly announced to the room, “Mommy! I’m home! Now where is our grieving debutante? It’s time to _shiva_!”

 _“Oy vey!”_ Leia rubbed the bridge of her nose, as if both frustrated and resigned to the antics of her son. “Ben, this isn’t the appropriate time to act like an ass. Now go sit beside Rey and honor your _sandek_.”

Rey shifted to the side as the tall man sat next to her. He was unconventionally handsome, with long wavy dark black hair under his _kippah_ that covered his hairs and fell to his shoulder just so. His long face was marked with an aquiline nose, deep honey brown eyes, plush lips, and moles scattered like constellations across his face. By relative comparison she felt ugly, a comparison only made worse by the customs of _shiva_. Her unwashed wavy brown hair was tied up in three buns, and she was pretty sure the remaining deodorant she put on before the funeral was starting to give a bit.

“So you’re the girl I’ve heard so much about,” he replied, waving off offers of some kosher cookies from a well-meaning guest with a shake of his head.

“Oh? I wasn’t aware there was much about me to tell.”  
  
He slanted her a look. “You’re a penniless nobody who turned into a long-lost heiress, and you don’t think that is a curious story worth investigating?”  
  
She glared at him. “Only to monsters like you.”  
  
“Ahh, I see my parents have been singing my praises. Not that I would expect anything less. They’ve never seen me as anything but a disappointment.” Rey heard the visceral sadness — one that echoed her own private feelings.

She ignored him as a cousin of her father patted her hand in condolence. “Your grandfather was a wonderful person,” the old lady said sympathetically. “Be sure to remember his original family when you receive your inheritance. Blood is thicker and all that…” before turning to walk away, ignoring Ben’s outstretched hand altogether. _Bitch._

“What a _yenta_ and vulture. Total lie by the way,” Ben said as they observed everyone gathered around Leia, faith laughter carrying across the room.

“What is?” Rey asked as she turned to look at him.  
  
“That your father was a wonderful person. He was rigid bastard who was set in his ways,’’ Ben replied as he chomped on some pistachios. “He could have found you sooner if he wanted to, but he needed to save face for sleeping with a student outside of his marriage.”

“That’s not a nice thing to say about a dead guy,” she replied, cracking open her own pistachio.  
  
“Does his state of _mortis_ matter when speaking of how he was like?”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t,” she replied. “But I’ve only known him for three weeks. So I’ll have to either accept your word or the words of all these people to gauge my father’s character.”

“He would have disappointed you. Parents sometimes let you down and there is nothing you can do about that,” he said, staring at his parents, his voice laced with bitterness. “These people are only here to schmooze because it’s the socially acceptable thing to do, especially when my family is at the heart of this. Plus, they want to see who the bastard girl who inherited the Kenobi fortune. They are nothing but a bunch of idle gossips.”

They sat in silence for a while. She focused on the flickering candle set in the middle of the table. By three o’clock, the crowd thinned to a few stragglers until it was just Rey, Ben, Han and Leia in the room. The only sounds were the occasional cracking of pistachios, the constant ticking of the wall clock, and the barely perceptible sound of tension between Ben and his parents.  
  
“Ben…”

“Don’t start mom,” Ben replied angrily.  
  
“I didn’t say anything, son,” replied Leia defensively.

“But you were going to say something about my job.” 

“Oh, what? Now my son is a psychic? An oracle? Well would you look at that, Han. I gave birth to a modern-day _navi_.”

“Mom,” Ben sighed heavily, “just stop with the bullshit already."

“Hey kid, don’t talk to your mother that way.” Han piped up from the back of the room, is voice gruff.

“Oh here we fucking go. It isn’t a family fight until Dad pipes up.”

“Ben, don’t swear in front of Rey, you fucking asshole,” Leia snipped at him. “And this is a _shiva_. Show some fucking respect.”

“STOP! JUST FUCKING STOP!” Rey stood, yelling at all three.

“You!” she pointed to Ben. “You are nothing but a self-entitled prat. I would have given anything to have parents and the life of privilege you had. Instead I had to dig food from garbage dumps because my shitty foster-parent couldn’t give two fucks about me.”   
  
“And you two! Show some respect for the man your son has become. Stop pretending that everything is okay when it’s not. It’s not okay to treat your son like crap just because he isn’t fulfilling your dreams,” she paused to inhale. Four weeks worth of below-the-surface anger deserved at least one breath. “Also, it’s not okay to trot me out in front of people for public mourning of someone I don’t know who, in a custom that is foreign and uncomfortable to me, for a man who couldn’t take the time to find me when I needed him the most.”

She walked to the closet and angrily ripped her thin sweater from the hanger. She grabbed the purse from the bottom of the banister rail before turning to look at them. “I’m done with _shiva_ today. Tomorrow I will finish it at my place, in my own way. Show up or not, I don’t care,” she told them before slamming the door behind her.

Leia watched Rey from the window march down the street to the subway station before turning to Ben.

“By the grace of God I hope you marry that girl.”

* * *

“Do you want a puff?” Ben looked down. Rey nodded as he handed her the plastic tip of the Old Port wine cigarillo. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, blowing the smoke out in perfect circles. 

On the patio table was the customary mourning candle. Next to the candle was a open bottle of wine and some red solo cups scattered about next to the chip and dip bowl.

Earlier in the morning, she pinned a note to the door for visitors to join her on the rooftop. Ben was the first to arrive, wearing tight blue jeans and a casual v-neck grey Henley shirt that fit loose across his frame. He greeted her with a pout of his lips, leaning against the frame of the door, armed with an apology.

“I’m sorry. _Shiva_ is about comforting you, not turning it into a festivus…”  
  
“For the rest of us…” she replied with a grin.

He smiled and helped her set-up for the day. Once they were set up, with overturned milk cartons topped with custom made cushions and a bevy of snacks and spirits, he resumed his spot next to her, clasping her hand in silent support.  
  
“This isn’t exactly part of the traditional _shiva,_ you know,” Ben said, eyeing the wine bottles and a cooler of beer and spirits on the side. 

“Oh I know. I was well-versed by your Uncle Luke.” Ben rolled his eyes. “But if the point of _shiva_ is to comfort the mourning, well...I wasn’t feeling comforted it doing your parents way. I’m Rey, the _gentile_ girl who occasionally swears, drinks, and hangs out with her friends, and who spends more time cursing then praying to God. And I’m going to grieve my own way.” 

“Well at least you kept some of the traditional customs,” he joked with a grin, leaning in to smell her armpit area. 

Rey swatted him playfully with a grin before resuming her place on the upturned carton. “Like I need an excuse of a _shiva_ to let myself go. They don’t call it Decem-beaver and Janu-hairy for nothing.” She laughed as Ben made a gag face and stuck his finger in his mouth to pretend to vomit.

They joked for another hour, conversation flowing easily. Conversation quickly turned to more serious subject matters, each sharing how lonely and vulnerable they felt growing up. Occasionally, they would gently touch each other; his hand would stray to her knee, and she in turn would occasionally run her hand along his forearm. It was casual and natural, with neither doing anything to stop those gestures. 

Eventually visitors arrived. Han and Leia arrived first, both extremely apologetic to both Rey as they entered the rooftop with bags of apology sandwiches from the Jewish deli. It took a while, but eventually Ben and his parents talked out some of their issues, with promises of more family meetings and possible family therapy.  
  
Of course, nobody from her father’s side showed up.

A few of Rey’s friends from work stopped by, including her best friend Finn, along with his partner Poe, and Rose — their roommate and very pregnant surrogate. Even Armitage and Phasma — Ben's colleagues from First Order Financial — paid their respects with a very expensive bouquet, staying just the customary amount of time to not seem gauche.

Leia immediately offered to host a baby shower and started making plans with Rose. Rey was like family after all, so friends of Rey were friends of Leia. Ben and Poe, a hedge fund manager himself, talked about the market. Finn stood the corner explaining to Han how to order coffee at Starbucks. “Whaddya mean they call it _venti_? What’s wrong with just saying large, like a normal person?”

Rey sat quietly on her crate, observing the scene around her with her family of choice.

Maybe what she was truly mourning was the loss of growing up without a family.

Maybe partaking in _shiva_ allowed her to grieve the father she should have had but never received, even the short time he was alive and present in her life.

Maybe this process allowed her to put a closure to the chapter and go forward, creating her own family along the way.

She glanced at Ben, whose face was split into a wide grin as Poe discussed the pitfalls of their world. Her pulse picked up a bit, as if she was truly looking at him for the first time — as if there was something there that wasn’t there before. She watched as he weaved his way into all parts of her little world.

Was it even appropriate to think of a recovery and future that involved him at this time in her life?

He lifted his head and glanced at her, his head nodding with a smile in acknowledgement, before resuming his conversation.   
  
Maybe. 

* * *

Ben stood over her, looking down with his arm extended and hand upturned.  
  
“Rey, _shiva_ is over. At least the first stage for you. Join me for a walk around the block to close this all out.”

She placed her small hand into his large hand, and he pulled her up from the crate. Her joints popped into place as her tight muscles let out a groan of relief. He gathered the trash into a black garbage bag while she unplugged the boombox. They dumped the contents into the house and made their way to the front door.

“I don’t know if I should. I look like like a hobo and I smell like a dumpster,” she said as she took the blanket off the foyer mirror, taking in her post-grief appearance disparagingly.

“Nonsense.” He stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, leaning down to whisper in her ears, his eyes on hers in the reflection as his soft lips caressed her lobes. “You look beautiful — just the way you are. Besides, they can only smell you if you are standing down wind.”

“Asshole!” 

“I see you’re catching on to my charming ways.” With a wink, he bent to unpin the _kriah_ from her wrist, placing in next to his _kippah_ on the foyer table. They both changed out of their slippers and into their sneakers before exiting.  
  
They walked for about a block before Rey stopped and tugged at his sleeve.  
  
“Did you really mean that?”  
  
“Mean what?” He looked down at her, his brown eyes showing flecks of honey against the setting sun. 

“That I’m beautiful?” She bit her lip, looking at her sneakers against the sidewalk.

He reached his hand out and tilted her chin upwards. “Meh. A little bit of column A, and a little bit of column B,” he joked, smiling so big she could his slightly crooked incisors. “But seriously, you are exquisite. As soon as I saw you, I knew I wanted to get to know you.” He swiped a thumb against her bottom lip and she shuddered at the touch.“But most importantly, when you talk to me, you talk _to_ me. You listen _to_ me. I feel heard. I feel like I am _somebody_ with you.”

“I feel it too,” she whispered back. “I’ve felt so alone all my life. And you’re a complete asshole sometimes. I shouldn’t even want to be with you, because you border on obnoxious.”

“Says the girl who smells and admits she doesn’t shave in the winter,” he smiled at her.  
  
“See? Always with the jokes. But I like you just as you are.” 

“See? Always with the insults. And ditto.”

“Maybe we can give whatever this is a try?” She flung her arms around her for emphasis.  
  
“Sure babe. But I wouldn’t wave my arm around like that until you’ve had a shower.” He pinched his nose in mock exaggeration.

“Shut up.” She slapped his bicep in faux anger. 

They continued their walk, holding hands as they circled the block, dodging bike riders and other pedestrians in silence. 

“I can’t promise I’m going to be a perfect girlfriend. I have flaws you know.”

“Well obviously,’ he deadpanned a reply. “But don’t worry, my mom will mould you into a perfect Jewish wife.”

“What?”

“What?”

**Author's Note:**

> Shiva is a structured mourning period for immediate family members. It is practiced in a ritual known as "sitting shiva." Mourners gather at the homes, often bringing food and words of comfort to the grieving family as they transition through the early stage of grief. Specific observances may vary depending on the belief. It normally last seven days but can be shortened depending on the family circumstances (although from everything I've read, three days seems to be the minimum).
> 
> Some general practices are sitting in lower chairs (to represent the pain of mourners being brought low), covering mirrors (to not be concerned with appearance), burning a candle (a sign of memorial), various prayers (including the Mourner's Kaddish and Prayer of Mercy), refraining from wearing leather shoes, wearing a torn black ribbon (known as a keriah or kriah, symbolizing the tear in the mourner's heart). 
> 
> Mourners generally refrain from leaving the house (except to go to synagogue on Shabbat), work, shaving/haircuts, bathing (except for very basic hygiene), cosmetics, sexual intercourse, wearing leather shoes, festivities, and any type of personal hobby that gives pleasure (except for reading the Torah).
> 
> Definitions:  
> "Chaver" is a friend  
> "Mensch" is a person of high integrity and honor, usually an older man  
> "Gentile" is a non-Jewish person  
> "Shiksa" is a gentile girl/woman (generally referred meaning a non-Jewish girlfriend, and can sometimes be used disparagingly)  
> "Sandek" is a person given the honor of holding the baby while he is circumcised and kind-of the closest thing to a "god father" (and is often the guardian of said child, but not always)  
> "Schmuck" is a pejorative term for someone who is stupid or foolish or obnoxious (although the literal term means penis).  
> "Oy vey" is an expression of dismay or grief  
> "Yenta" is traditionally known as a gentle women, but is also used as a term to refer to someone who is a busybody or gossip.


End file.
